


wouldn't do us any harm

by everybodyknowseverybodydies



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon, ワンパンマン | One-Punch Man
Genre: Genos is going to fight the sun, M/M, background Harumichi Makoami and Reinako, don't ask why it's centered around Christmas I just really like Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 16:19:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8063338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everybodyknowseverybodydies/pseuds/everybodyknowseverybodydies
Summary: Genos knows that it is good for his sensei to have friends, and he wants everyone to like his sensei! Sensei deserves respect from everyone! However, he is... not good at sharing. Everything is an insult. SAITAMA'S HONOR MUST BE PRESERVED. This new group of hero girls may seem nice but CLEARLY THEY ARE ONLY ATTEMPTING TO BEFRIEND THEM AS A TRICK. (Saitama doesn't see it that way but that is only because he is too good to see anything but the best in people. Obviously.)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [knightlysoulsnatcher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightlysoulsnatcher/gifts).



> First: I'M VERY SORRY TO HOTARU-LOVERS I DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO INCLUDE HER AS SHE IS AN ACTUAL CHILD AND I DIDN'T THINK GENOS WOULD BE SUPER INCLINED TO TRY TO FIGHT A SMALL CHILD EVEN IF SHE IS THE LITERAL EMBODIMENT OF DEATH. Second: This is purely a self-indulgent crack crossover for Knight because I can do that and nobody is stopping me mwahaha. Third: I feel it is important everyone know the title of my Word document of this is "Egg and Toaster and Senshi, oh my!" That is all, carry on.

Genos was not jealous of his sensei’s new, other friends. It did not bother him at all that they were all women. No, he knew that Saitama-sensei was lonely, and that he enjoyed having friends, and that they were very nice, and that none of them was interested in pursuing sensei.

However.

This did not mean they were allowed to be insulting and demeaning towards Saitama! Sensei always laughed and told him that they weren’t, they were being nice and Genos shouldn’t be so oversensitive about everything, but Genos knew better. He had put up with too much disrespect towards his sensei already; to allow this new group of heroes, this collection of _Sailor Senshi_ , to attempt to come between him and his sensei and pay subtle measures of rudeness to Saitama at a time – this was truly the greatest and most unforgivable of crimes.

He attempted to deal with each offense as it came.

* * *

 

The first offense occurred on the first of December, approximately 3:42 in the afternoon. Genos answered the knock at the door with narrowed eyes which narrowed even further when he was met with the beaming ball of joy that was bouncing outside.

“Hi Genos!” chirped the one with the odangos. “Can I come in?” Begrudgingly, he stepped aside, and she bounded inside, clutching a poorly-wrapped present. “I know it’s not Christmas but I wanted to give you guys your presents early so you can use them during the Christmas season!”

“What is it?” He closed the door. She did not seem to notice his folded arms.

“Presents are surprises!” she insisted as she hopped over their shoes by the door and found Saitama immediately. “Saitama!”

He grinned. “Usagi! What’s going on?” She thrust the package under his nose. “Oh! Is this for me?”

“It’s for both of you but I had to wrap everything together because I didn’t have a lot of wrapping paper left.” Usagi eagerly clapped her hands together. “Open it! Open it!” Genos came over to observe as his sensei did as told, peeling away the embarrassingly untidy and excessively shiny paper to reveal a light-up round red ball with a notch in it, a pair of felt antlers – “Those are for you, Genos!” – and…

“What is that?” Genos demanded as Saitama held up what appeared to be a blanket decorated in the most garish, repulsive, Christmas-themed manner. It was truly the most hideous blanket he had ever laid eyes on.

“It’s a Christmas cape!” Usagi said excitedly. “I made it myself! I know you like having a cape and I thought it would be fun if you guys could be Christmas heroes together! I was going to make one for you too, Genos, but then I ran out of stuff and also Mako won’t let me use her sewing supplies anymore because I broke her machine on accident but by then it was already almost today and if you’re going to be Christmas heroes you have to do it all December because the stores and stuff already have their Christmas stuff out –”

Saitama was staring at the monstrosity in his hands in silence. Genos glowered at the girl in front of them. “Why would you do this?” His voice was low, trembling with emotion.

She misinterpreted the emotion. “Oh! I like presents and I like friends and we’re friends with you guys now!” she grinned. “Do you like them?”

“No,” Genos started to say, and was already preparing an elaborate speech regarding exactly how rude it was to give his sensei something so ugly, but Saitama spoke first. “Yeah,” he said, looking up with a smile. “I love it. Thanks, Usagi.”

Flabbergasted, Genos looked back at his sensei in shock. He _loved_ it? How could he – was he looking at it correctly? Sensei’s tastes were eccentric at times, but this, this, _this_ was not merely eccentric, it was an embarrassment to the good name of capes. He swallowed the speech he had been preparing and instead was silent. Saitama was of course a very kind person; perhaps this was an example of his pity.

The one with the odangos beamed even more brightly. “Put it on, put it on! Genos, you should put your nose and your antlers on too!”

Laughing, Saitama stuck the antlers on top of Genos’s head and handed over the light up nose. “Here, try it on.” He fit the notch in the plastic sphere over his own nose and looked sourly at the offensive cape as Saitama swung it around his shoulders.

When the girl finally left some time later, Genos immediately removed the blinking nose and the antlers. “Sensei! Are you not going to dispose of that – that abomination?”

Saitama looked up, eyebrows raised. “Eh? Oh – no, why would I do that? Abomination…? I like it,” he shrugged. “It’s been a long time since someone gave me a handmade present, and she obviously spent a lot of time on it.”

Genos decided gravely that he would learn to knit before Christmas. His sensei deserved a handmade gift which did not look like Santa Claus had vomited onto it.

* * *

 

The second offense came during the Christmas party. The one with the perfect hair had brought champagne, her arm hooked through the arm of the one with the sword, and the one with the sword had declared loudly, “Now it’s a party!”

To which Saitama had responded with a laugh as he went to the cupboard to take down all the cups they owned.

Which had resulted in several disproportionate portions of champagne being distributed in some of the coffee mugs.

The tall green one had insisted on taking the tall mug when it had gotten passed to the little blue one, and now she was trying to arm-wrestle Saitama repeatedly. She was losing, of course, although the little blue one was sitting next to her and chanting her name and clapping rhythmically, speech a little slurred. The tall green one was enthusiastic about the whole thing, if growing increasingly frustrated. After the eighth time Saitama laughingly batted her palm and sent her sprawling to the floor, the tall green one sat up in a daze and shook her head.

“One more round?” Saitama asked with a grin, taking a drink from his glass. “I think you almost got me that time, Mako.” Genos felt pride swelling in his throat. Yes. His master was the best at what he did, but he was generous about it. This was important. He whipped out his notebook to record this observation (not for the first time).

The tall green one sat up with a hiccup and a laugh, but before she could return to her seat, the little blue one plopped down in her seat and leaned across the table, blinking seriously and trying to focus her gaze. “I’ll do it.”

“Uh…” His sensei looked both concerned and bewildered. “Ami, I don’t know that that’s –”

“Ammmmmmmmmmi,” the tall green one got out urgently, staggering to her feet. She grabbed at the edge of the table. “Don’t… don’t do that, yer gonna get squished or ssssssomething –”

The little blue one shook her head and slammed her palms down on the table. “No, no, I’ve – I’ve got this.” She patted the tabletop and reached for her cup. The tall green one pushed it away insistently with a mumble. “M’gonna do it, to – to see,” she said, frighteningly serious.

Genos came over to stand silently behind his sensei. This was clearly a situation that needed monitoring. Saitama scratched his cheek awkwardly. “To… see?”

She nodded in two huge motions that used her entire upper body. “To see, to see what – like a test, for science.”

His eyes narrowed. “You wish to… experiment on my sensei?” Genos demanded. A set of confused blue eyes blinked up at him. “You wish to _experiment_ on my sensei?”

Furrowing her brow, she covered her mouth with one hand. “Is that what I said? That wasn’t what I was trying to say –”

He opened his mouth to lecture on the impropriety and utter nose-thumbing nature of performing experiments on his sensei, when the tall green one lurched around the table and jabbed a finger at his chest. “Stop it,” she said, a little more clearly than what she’d been saying before. “Don’t even. S’not what she was saying, she jus’ wants to know stuff, ‘cos she’s – she’s a _knower_. Of _stuff_.”

Something hit the table, and they both spun to see Saitama grinning. “Hey, nice job! You got me!” The little blue one giggled and turned a bright smile to the tall green one.

Genos despised Christmas and made a note to himself to never allow the one with the perfect hair to bring beverages over ever again.

* * *

The third offense was mid-January. The eighteenth of January, to be precise, approximately six in the evening. Genos and Saitama were sitting in comfortable silence in the living area. His sensei was reading one of his manga; Genos was taking notes and meticulously drawing the exact posture of his sensei. There was a knock on the door.

His head came up. Three solid knocks, not too light and not too fast, which meant it was likely –

He yanked open the door and came face to face with the tall green one. She lifted her shoulders sheepishly and held out a box. “I brought you guys some dinner.”

“Why?” Genos looked at the box, then back at her.

She stared at him for a moment. “Uh… because I figured you… didn’t want to always have to make your own dinner?”

“I am a perfectly good cook,” he said shortly, taking the box. “What is it?”

Saitama was there when he turned around. “Oh, hey, Mako. What’s this?”

“She brought us… dinner,” Genos responded as he went to set the box on the counter and lifted the lid off. The tall green one was explaining things in the background, but he ignored this in favor of analyzing the meal. “This salad is insufficient sustenance,” he said shortly. “And the soup, while both meaty and ‘thoughtful,’ is surely cold from the walk here.”

A note of offense creeping into her tone, she huffed. “Thanks. Do you have something to say about dessert too or is that all?”

He sniffed the container with the dessert. “It contains pecans,” he said at last. “Sensei dislikes pecans.”

Saitama elbowed him with a forced cough. “Eh, thanks, Mako, it smells really good and it looks great too. We really appreciate it.” He smiled, and the tall green one relaxed a little, returning the smile.

“Hey, yeah – anytime you guys want something, just let me know, okay?” She tugged at the end of her scarf. “So… see you later?”

“Sure!” Saitama waved as she left again.

Turning to his sensei, Genos demanded, “Why are you encouraging such intrusive behavior? You do not like pecans; this is correct, as you told me seventy-three –”

“Genos.” He stopped. “Genos, I’m pretty sure this is something neighbors do all the time. They’re being nice. And it’s kinda nice to have a lot of friends, don’t you think? Especially if it means we don’t have to live off leftover pizza all the time.”

He considered this. Sensei made a reasonable argument, of course. Genos bowed his head.

Naturally, he would still have to provide the tall green one with a list of acceptable dishes Saitama would enjoy if this were to continue.

* * *

The fourth offense was one which was very, very obviously intended to be offensive, yet Saitama still did not recognize it as such. The annoying orange one was pestering the angry red one yet again, and the angry red one was yelling while the annoying orange one snickered.

Then the annoying orange one silenced the angry red one with a loud smacking smooch and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Hey hey, not bad, Rei,” she declared. “But you’ll have to be better than that if you want to impress the goddess of love herself!”

“ _What_ ,” the angry red one growled.

“That’s me.”

Perturbed by this blatant disregard for his sensei’s lack of involvement in such a relationship, Genos started to stomp over, but was stopped by a strong hand on his arm. “What’s going on?” Saitama asked him.

“They are – they are –!”

“…having fun?” Saitama suggested. “Yeah, it does look kinda fun, doesn’t it?”

Kissing a woman looked _fun?_ Genos did not understand why he suddenly felt something akin to despair.

“I dunno if I can remember having ever kissed someone. Huh.” He tilted his head as he thought.

This was also very important and relevant information. Genos pulled out his notebook to scribble it down diligently. Meanwhile, the angry red one and the annoying orange one were bantering back and forth; he distinctly heard the words “hot as hell – ha! I’m on fire! Well you’re on fire actually no no Rei wait I’m trying to make a point –” being said.

Then the annoying orange one called out, “Hey! When are you guys going to kiss? The tension is very visible!”

Saitama laughed awkwardly. Genos’s pen snapped in his hand. Shrugging, his sensei said, “Maybe later. Ah, it’s not a great time for a first kiss, is it?”

“Ha!” The annoying orange one crowed, “See, Rei, there’s a real romantic, thinking about mood lighting and dramatic background music and velvet seating and an aphrodisiac menu – _stop trying to Fire Soul me what the hell I’m being helpful_ –!”

Genos attempted to remain perfectly calm as he replayed Saitama’s words over in his head for the next twelve hours and analyzed what they might possibly mean.

* * *

The fifth and sixth offenses came together. This was, however, not a surprise, as the one with perfect hair and the one with the sword did many things together. Sensei was not present to defend himself from these, though, which was the greatest offense of all. Genos was out getting groceries according to the list he had carefully prepared, and as he was retrieving a special selection of sweets so that he could inform the tall green one they did not need new baked goods every week, they ambushed him.

Of course it was not an ambush which was very successful, as they neither attempted to physically attack him nor came as a surprise due to his superior senses. “Hey, Genos,” the one with the sword greeted him, holding the hand of the one with perfect hair, who merely smiled serenely and returned her attention to the pristine pad of paper in her other hand.

“Darling,” she said silkily, “none of this is on the list.”

“Oh, Michi, it’s a treat! We deserve a treat!” The one with the sword picked up a box of cookies and waved it around emphatically. “These are perfect! Look, they have blue frosting, that’s kind of like the ocean.”

Genos narrowed his eyes and turned away. The one with perfect hair did not seem impressed either. “Haruka… please, there is a bakery two streets over which would offer a much better alternative.”

Lifting his head and looking back over his shoulder, he demanded abruptly, “Are you suggesting this store is inferior?”

She tilted her head very slightly and looked at him for a long moment. He stood steadfast and unwithered, imagining that Saitama would be very proud of this display of strength before such a steely gaze.

The one with the sword pouted. “But, Michi, it’s cheap and it’s good!”

“Yes,” Genos agreed. “They have many sales and sensei is very fond of their food.”

“Ara, I see, if your _sensei_ is fond of it…” Her expression melted into something softer immediately. Smiling, the one with perfect hair raised an eyebrow.

His scowl deepened. “Do not patronize me! Sensei has impeccable taste which I will not allow to be mocked!”

“Hey!” The one with the sword invaded his space, mirroring his scowl. “Michiru knows what she’s talking about more than anybody else and if she says somewhere else is better, it’s _better_ , alright?”

He narrowed his eyes even further. “This is false. My sensei knows best.”

“I think my _wife_ , a multilingual, world-travelling –”

“Haruka, dear,” the one with perfect hair interrupted, laying a hand on the other’s shoulder. She said nothing else, just looked at her with lifted brows and the corners of her mouth turned up in faint amusement. The one with the sword faltered and stepped back, clearing her throat awkwardly and putting a hand over her wife’s.

“…sorry,” she mumbled, glowering at him. As soon as the one with perfect hair turned away, though, she pointed at him and mouthed, “Not sorry.”

Genos glared back until they were out of sight, and then decided it would be acceptable to indulge with an extra box of chocolate.

* * *

The final insult came the very next day, the second of February. Saitama had invited all of them over, telling Genos it was because they had lots of extra hot cocoa mix and wouldn’t it be nice to share with friends?

Genos was not convinced it would not be better just the two of them, but he did not argue.

Before everyone arrived, Saitama had made nine mugs of hot chocolate and set them in a circle on the counter. He had done an excellent job, as he always did, Genos knew. At the very least, it would be nice to hear others compliment his sensei’s superb skills as well, he consoled himself.

They arrived almost all together, and as he had hoped, were all complimentary concerning the hot cocoa, though some of them appeared to have trouble with it, particularly the one with the odangos, who kept nearly spilling her mug, and the little blue one, whose enormous green sweater sleeves kept sliding over her hands and giving her trouble with the handle of her mug. He observed as the angry red one huffed and lectured the one with the odangos about being careful while the tall green one laughingly helped the little blue one roll her sleeves up to her elbows.

He sat down very purposely beside his sensei to keep the annoying orange one from doing so first when he saw where she was headed. She shrugged and grinned, instead going to sit on the angry red one’s lap and receiving a loud squawk for her trouble.

The door swung open suddenly, and one that Genos had not seen before stepped in. She was tall and dark and held herself like a soldier, and he was immediately on his feet. “Who are you and why are you here?” he demanded, holding his mug of hot chocolate threateningly.

She smiled and closed the door behind her. “I’m the ninth mug,” she said as she went to take the last mug from the counter.

“Hey, Setsuna,” Saitama said cheerfully. “Glad you could make it!”

“It is a little crowded, but I could not turn down your hospitality.” She stood against the wall instead of sitting and pulled something out of her coat pocket, sprinkling it into her mug before lifting it to her lips.

Genos spluttered, still on his feet. “What are you – you are a stranger, you arrive late, and then you _add_ to sensei’s masterful handiwork?”

She looked up over the edge of the mug, calm. “It’s only cinnamon.”

Had Saitama not tugged on his arm just then, he would have berated this stranger for daring to pile on so many inconsiderate actions and then kicked her out. However, Saitama did tug on his arm, and so he sat down abruptly instead and settled for silently glaring at the offender.

“Genos,” Saitama grinned, “c’mon, man, lighten up. We’ve got _friends_.”

He could not protest in the face of sensei’s hopeful smile. Instead, he looked around. Saitama watched him, smile widening even more; the others – his sensei’s… friends – were talking and laughing easily with each other. Sensei was drawn into a conversation with the one with odangos and the annoying orange one; he was not laughing, but his smile was genuine.

They were not laughing at him, but with him.

Genos decided, perhaps, that these friends were not so bad after all.

 


End file.
